


Watch Your Step

by unlikelyvalentines (reegars)



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: F/M, Fluff, OOC, they're in love okay leave me alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:28:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reegars/pseuds/unlikelyvalentines
Summary: in which tess does some thinking, joel falls on his ass, and they make pancakes together





	

The sun peeked through the torn curtains of the apartment as dawn crept over the QZ. Tess stirred the oatmeal over the electric burner, glancing at the pinks and oranges that had started to seep into the cold blue of the morning. This was her favorite time of day, the waking hours of the world. Birds shaking the frost from their feathers and deciding it’s probably time to head south soon. The world had stopped 18 years ago, but nature went on. She had always admired that about the earth. 

She took half of the oatmeal for herself and left the rest for Joel when he’d wake, as she did almost every morning. He wasn’t a morning person like her, only when he had to be. He got to rest, and she had her alone time to think. A win/win in her eyes. 

She tiptoed through their shared bedroom, being careful not to wake the sleeping beast who had since stolen all the blankets after Tess had gotten out of bed. Joel’s big flannel coat lay at the foot of the bed, perfect for a chilly morning like this. When she put it on, she got lost in the size of it. It smelled like him. She snatched his stale cigarettes from the bedside table to take with her for her morning meditation (of her own sort.) Slowly, she lifted the creaky window and climbed out onto the fire escape, balancing her bowl and the cigarettes with one hand. 

Closing the window behind her, she sat in her usual spot on the steps and snuggled into his coat. Watching the sun come up, watching a few lonely figures here and there appear and disappear in their windows. A few military patrols walked slowly down the main stretch of the district, guns clutched tightly to their chests even when nobody was up and about yet. 

The fear, she thought, never quite went away. 

She had a few more too-hot bites of her oatmeal as it steamed in the early November air. Fall was her favorite time of year: cold in the morning, comfortable during the day. Of course, comfortable for her was always too cold for Joel, but she loved the cold. October had been elbowed eagerly out of the way by November, ready for her thirty days to shine, and to probably bring the first snow over Boston of the season. That, Tess wasn’t quite looking forward to. Smuggling in the snow was never fun. Too cold, too soggy, and too grumpy. She thought Joel would be used to the snow by now, after spending so many years in Boston with her, but no. Every winter it was the same, warmer this, Texas that. The man never shut up. 

She didn’t mind much. 

She fumbled a bit and put the cigarette between her lips, flicking a match and lighting it with ease. If they couldn’t have caffeine, nicotine would have to do. God, she missed coffee. 

She smoked for a while, resting the cigarette between her fingers as she breathed deeply and thought on the day, the waking hours, the birds wondering if today was the day to go. She felt that way often: not caged, but feeling like maybe the time here had been just a little too long. Joel would never go for leaving, they’d worked too hard and built too much for them to give it all up now. But she spent the mornings thinking about where they could go if she could ever convince him. Tommy had always talked about going out west, and he did. He never came back… He was either dead, or living somewhere good. 

She hoped to god for the latter. 

She sighed, finishing the cigarette and holding the last big of smoke in her lungs as she tossed the butt off the fire escape. A few gunshots fired in the distance and she closed her eyes. Couldn’t it just be quiet? 

When she opened them again, she could see Joel stirring under the blankets through the window. Part of her knew he needed to sleep, but part of her wanted him to wake up so he could have breakfast with her. So many years together and she somehow never tired of his company. They had their moments where she couldn’t fucking stand him, his stubborn ways, his walls that seemed to grow thicker every time she tore one down, but god did she love him. The kind of love that glowed like a sunset, like embers that she just couldn’t let die. It’d taken a long fucking time to cultivate, but they were finally someplace…. good. She just wished they could take all that good and put it somewhere where they weren’t just running on a treadmill to nowhere, risking more every day. She couldn’t count the close calls with infected, physical harm, and the military, just from one day on the job. 

It was never easy for them. It wasn’t in the cards. 

She finished her oatmeal, now chilly and mildly disgusting, in a few bites. Wrapping his big jacket around herself, she opened the window and slipped back inside. She left her bowl on the bedside table as Joel stirred awake. “Mornin’, big guy.” 

“Would ya shut that damn thing?” he grumbled, cocooning himself in the blankets in protest. “It’s fuckin’ cold.” 

She smirked, shutting the window. The glass panes rattled in the frame. “Grumpy?” 

“’S early, Tessa. Cut me a break.” 

Against her better judgement, she crawled into bed next to him. “Come on, sleepy. We’ve got work to do.” 

“What time is it?” 

She scoffed, snuggling into him. “When has that really mattered? The sooner we get it done, the sooner we have the rest of the night off…” 

He looked up from his blanket, looking more like ET in his basket than anything else. “Or, we could stay in bed now...” he sighed, pressing kisses from her forehead down to her nose. “And make the drop later.” 

“Or,” she kissed him slowly. “We could go now and we can have a nice dinner tonight and then we can do whateveeer you want.” 

He frowned in mock disappointment. “Well why are you kissin’ me like that if you’re gonna make me wait?” 

She laughed and rolled out of the bed, listening as he did the same opposite her. She looked up in the mirror on the wall, lined with a few old photographs from their early days. Tommy had picked up an old polaroid camera and a shit ton of expired film from the old factory some miles out from the QZ back when it was just the three of them. Lots of pictures from their long nights out at the watering hole, and even a few from their first few smuggling trips. Then, Tommy had joined the ‘Flies and it was all in-fighting from there. She missed him. Where Joel was stubborn, Tommy usually would give. He was kinder-hearted. Less to ache for. He was the one who had helped her understand the ins and outs of Joel’s way. Without him, she probably would have left Joel high and dry a long time ago. 

In the mirror, Joel was walking up behind her. “I made you breakfast,” she said, trying to pretend like she wasn’t lingering on the photos, busying her hands with her small bottle of perfume on the table. They’d found it in an old mansion when they’d gone looting in Newport. It smelled like the old world. She used it sparingly, usually when she knew they were going to be making a particular kind of love. She’d never mention it, but she always noticed the silver glimmer of moonlight tears in his eyes. He missed the old times more than he’d ever care to admit. Sometimes she wished he’d let himself be weak, especially with her. 

“That’s why I love you.” When she looked up he was grinning behind her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around her waist and swallowed her in a hug.

“It’s oatmeal.” 

She laughed as his face crinkled in disappointment. “I take it back.” 

“There’s brown sugar in the pantry. Throw some in when you heat it up.” 

His grip around her waist tightened. “Okay, I’m back.” 

“Good. Go. We’ve got work to do.” 

She listened as he moved around the kitchen, his bare feet padding over the cracked tile floors. “Fuck, it’s cold!” he griped. She could hear him rustling through the modest cabinet of ingredients they called “the pantry.” She lingered by the old photos for a moment longer, then joined him in the kitchen. 

He was trying to chip off some brown sugar from the hardened block, a look of concentration on his face. It was her turn to hug him from behind, extending her arms with her hands still in his big coat pockets so the extra room in the jacket could warm him up. “It would probably help if you put a shirt on,” she mused, pressing her face into the warm skin of his back. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“You’re right, it’s more fun to play Russian Roulette with your bare chest and hot oatmeal.” 

He paused, a chunk of brown sugar breaking off with a thud on the counter. “On second thought…” He left for the bedroom to put on a shirt with a new caution for his breakfast. 

She threw the whole chunk of sugar into the pot. She knew he liked it sweet. 

///

“So, Texas, what are you makin’ for dinner tonight?” 

She walked a few feet ahead of him, making sure the path was clear of obstacles or giant holes in the wooden floor. The combination of plant life and rotting wood didn’t make for the easiest drop to make, and Joel didn’t exactly have the best perception when it came to walking from point A to point B safely. “Watch out for that poison ivy,” she pointed out before he could even answer her question. The last thing she needed was any of that oil getting on the sheets of their bed. Lord knows the last time he had poison ivy, she got it immediately after. Everywhere. 

“…Thanks,” he said, avoiding the patch of leaves. She could hear him remembering the same itchy memories from behind her. “I don’t know, what do we have to make for dinner?” 

“We’re rich in cans, honey,” she said, sarcasm lacing her voice, then tying her words into a smile. “Peas, green beans, spaghetti-o’s, soup, peaches, pears, beans… brown sugar baked beans, actually…”

He groaned. “If I never ate beans again in my life it’d still be too soon.” 

“Keep dreaming.” She rolled her eyes, reaching up a wall and knocking down a ladder from the next level of the old warehouse. “That’s what we’ve got.”

“We got that bag of flour in rations this week, right?” 

She started up the ladder, knowing he was spotting her. “Uh huh.”

“Mind if I use it?” 

She smirked, getting to the top and waiting for him to follow. “Not if you’re cookin’ for me.” 

“How ‘bout pancakes?” He said with a small groan, hoisting himself up the ladder with all of his gear strapped to his back. 

“Breakfast for dinner? What’s the occasion?” 

He leaned close to her so his chin was close to the top of her head. “Our night in, remember?”

She smirked, sauntering ahead of him and out of the reach of a forehead kiss. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about dinner when I said that.” 

His bemused silence was enough for her. The smirk lingered on her mouth as she walked ahead, treading lightly over the creaking and bending floorboards beneath her feet. Looking up above her, she could see the hole in the roof that was letting all the water in and damaging the floors so badly after so many years of wear and weather. Through the gash, the clouds rolling in and blocking out the sun. It was only the afternoon and it was already starting to get cold. This time she’d worn her own jacket and sweater to keep warm, easier to move around in than Joel’s big coat, but his clothes were always her preference. She took a step and a floorboard bowed beneath her weight. “Hey, go around over there where it’s not so damaged. It’s pretty weak over here.” 

“Sure,” he confirmed, moving to the side and going the long way around. She stopped to check the papers that Bill had given her, info about where they were to pick up the drop. As she squinted at Bill’s shitty handwriting, a loud CRACK made her jump. “Oh FUCK!” Joel managed to yell out as he went straight through the floorboards and disappeared from her sight. 

“Joel!” she shrieked, running across the unsteady floor with little regard for her own safety. “Oh fuck! Fuck!! Are you okay?” She looked down into the hole that he’d left, but the area below was pitch black. Too panicked for a flashlight, she got down and peered into the hole. “Joel, fucking answer me!” 

She could hear him groaning. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Move if you can, I’m jumping down.” 

She lowered herself down into the floor below, hanging on by her arms and taking a guess as to where she could land without looking. She hopped down onto the floor and found it forgiving (albeit moldy) with a carpet, missing Joel by only a few inches. She fumbled in the dark for her flashlight and flicked it on, finding him dusty and disgusting and cringing, but okay. 

“Joel? Talk to me, are you hurt?” 

“Christ,” he groaned, reaching for his head. “What the fuck?” 

“You have to be more careful,” she said, relief washing through her. She was doing her best to shrug off the panicked tears that had begun to form without her noticing. “You—“ she tried to continue chiding him, but when she flashed the light back to him he was grinning through a grimace. Dissolving into laughter.

“What a fuckin’ day to fall on my ass,” he said, coughing through the dust that they’d stirred. He was laughing, harder now. He let his head fall back to the carpet, laughing, laughing. She started to laugh too. 

“You’re getting—you’re too damn old for this, Joel,” she laughed with him, the flashlight shaking with her giggles. “You shoulda seen your face!” 

“My face! MY face? You looked like you were plannin’ my funeral ‘fore—” he was wheezing, tears coming from his eyes. “’fore you jumped down here, all terrified and the like.”   
They laughed for a while longer, everything else falling away for a moment. They didn’t worry for infected or hunters or the military, about Bill or the Fireflies or what was for dinner. Just the two of them, laughing, bubbled from time and the weight of the world. She touched the side of his face. 

“Are you okay?” 

He nodded, his laughter winding down enough for him to sit up. “I’ll have some nice bruises on my back for a bit, but I’m fine. Really.” 

She leaned in and kissed him softly, mouths covered in dust and dirt. She didn’t care much. 

“Are you bleeding?” 

“Not that I know of.” 

There was a long pause, her stroking his cheek, him looking up into her eyes by the torch light. “Sorry if I scared ya. I love you, Tessa.” 

“You’re good at scaring the shit out of me.” But her smile was undeniable. “I love you too. Let’s get you up.” 

///

He was plating up the last of the pancakes when she lifted up the back of his shirt. “How’s it look?” 

“Holy shit, Joel,” she sighed, surveying the map of black and blue on his back. “You sure know how to fall.” 

“Any day without a broken bone is a blessin’, I suppose.” 

She didn’t want to think about those months after she’d broken her arm. Some of the hardest. “Well, that’s one way to look at it. How do you feel?” 

“Sore. Grumpy. Mostly hungry.” 

“So, nothing out of the ordinary.” 

He chuckled. “Shut it, or I’m eatin’ all of these pancakes myself.” 

She smirked, taking the plate from his hands and setting it down on the coffee table in front of the couch. She poured glasses of whiskey for them both, doubling his without him asking. 

“Oh, you know me so well.” 

“It’ll help you sleep.” 

He lowered himself down onto the couch with a groan, settling into the old cushions. She could tell he was in more pain than he was willing to let on. Once he was comfortable, she sat down next to him and leaned slightly into his chest. “Is this okay?” she murmured, hearing his grunt of approval through his chest. 

They ate their pancakes in silence, sipping their drinks from time to time. He played absentmindedly with her hair with his free hand. “Sorry for scarin’ you.” 

She sighed, leaning into his touch. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Okay?” 

He fell silent again for a while. “Ya think I could fall through this floor?” 

Tess burst into laughter. '

Things were good.


End file.
